Chapter 1
"Yes, Mr. Osborn," Otto huffed, clenching his fist tightly around the slip of paper he had just been handed.
The older man, and Otto's boss, Norman Osborn, looked down at Otto. Otto was shorter than Norman, but not smaller. He had curly brown hair, so dark it was almost black, and equally dark eyes. His Oscorp attire consisted of business casual, typically covered with a pristine white lab coat (although occasionally, a project would call for him to stain the coat with all sorts of mechanical oils and greases). Norman liked that Otto was shorter. It made him easier to intimidate.
And Otto was intimidated. Who wouldn't be? Norman was tall, gaunt, and angry. He spoke shortly and plainly, rarely sugarcoating his thoughts. In fact, he almost seemed to aim to hurt Otto's feelings. Critiques of Otto's work would often turn into arguments and name-calling. Norman would often spew vitriolic criticisms at Otto, strands of dusty red hair freeing their slicked-back position to fall in front of his face as he spoke.
Still, Otto would withstand such torments. Oscorp, in NYC, was one of the few places in the world that understood Octavius' vision- for a cleaner, radiation-powered future- and was perhaps the only one willing to fund his research. If Otto had to work under one of the most demanding and sometimes hateful men in order to realize his dreams, so be it. Otto was determined, driven, and wouldn't let one weak, overcompensating rich asshole stop him.
As Otto's thoughts heated to their boiling point, he was quickly doused by Norman's exit from the lab.
Now, Otto was alone, and he unfurled his clenched fingers to expose the small scrap of paper within them, now crumpled.
24th Annual US Scientific Innovation Gala, December 12-14, Washington, D.C.
An invitation. One Norman had extended, begrudgingly, to Otto just minutes ago. There would be opportunities to present Otto's research, and get grants, funding, and permits. Of course, there'd also be all kinds of networking and proselytizing for Norman to do. It was a huge opportunity, not only for Oscorp, but for Otto himself. He knew that. Which is why he had agreed before even checking his calendar. It was an entirely paid-for trip, and the only downside was a weekend spent in the same room as his boss (and, in a way, mortal enemy), Norman. Otto tucked the paper in his back pocket, and peeled off his lab coat. He carefully marked off the day's date on his calendar (a bright red line through December 10th), and mentally prepared a packing list. Suit, tie...extra tie...
---
Norman's fingers nervously drummed the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green. Otto sat, even more anxious, in the passenger seat, barely breathing for fear of making noise. Following their plane landing, Norman had arranged for a car that he could drive to the hotel. The two men had said no more than five words to each other since they had left New York.
The tall man cleared his throat. "I've arranged for, um," he paused to press the gas as the light turned, "a room for us at the hotel. A suite. Two bed, two bath..."
"The lap of luxury, huh?" Otto interjected cautiously.
Norman let the slightest of grins creep onto his face. "Probably fancier than whatever dingy apartment you're living in."
"Well, I'm afraid you'd be right, sir. Studio apartments in New York don't exactly come cheap. Plus, most of the space.. I use for, you know, my work."
Norman scoffed. "I'll allow you to relax on the honorifics for the weekend. We may be here on business but at this convention, you're presenting YOUR work. Here, you're my equal. At least in the eyes of the convention."
Otto's mouth opened in surprise, and a noise of shock slipped out. Norman Osborn's equal? It was perhaps the nicest thing the man had ever said.
"Well... thank you... Norman?"
"Osborn."
"Right, thank you, Osborn."
The two wordlessly pulled up into the hotel valet and exited the car, grabbing their bags.
Norman walked briskly indoors and up to the receptionist.
"Hi, checking in for a suite under Osborn?"
"Osborn....Norman?" The receptionist said, flashing a bright smile up at the tall man.
"Yes, sir," Norman said, flashing his card at the man, seated behind a computer.
"Got you down for two nights. Enjoy your stay!" The receptionist passed two key cards to Norman (one of which was instantly handed to Otto) and smiled again.
Norman quickly paced to the elevator, Otto in tow. Quickly, they were to the fifth floor and at the door of the suite.
"This is us," Norman muttered, swiping the card and opening the door.
He swung it open to reveal a far from humble abode. A living room was visible, complete with fireplace and television, and Otto could spot at least one more room from through the door. A kitchenette was on the right side, and Otto followed Norman through the door, the living room, and into it. Beyond, he could see the bedroom. He walked in, as Norman veered to the other side, checking the view through the large windows.
When Otto crossed the threshold of the bedroom door, he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for something that he already knew wasn't there.
He fidgeted with the hem of his coat, biting his lip as he thought about the dilemma. He knew he'd have to tell Norman somehow, but he didn't want to face the ire his boss was sure to express.
"Did you find the bedrooms yet?" Norman asked, walking towards Otto.
Otto spun on his heels. "Yes, uh... There's a bit of an issue, though, Osborn, uh.. sir."
Norman pushed past Otto to see the bedroom for himself. A gasp soon followed.
"There's only one bed."